The Crow Lord - The Lord of the Most Noble and Royal House of Peverell. (Patreon)

Gwyn Ashford, Lord's Study – Potter Manor.

"Have they sent you as a sacrifice, my Prince?" Harrys asked from behind his desk, completely focused on the thick, ancient book from the Peverell library, undoubtedly searching for some solution to the matter of the wand.

Five days had passed since the…incident. The situation remained quite tense at Potter Manor. Her fiancé's soldiers were still skinning the abnormal number of animals lying dead along the castle's outskirts, while tensions between the Targaryens and the Potters increased with each passing day.

Somehow, in a way nobody could yet explain, a rumor had spread that the old King's health had suddenly deteriorated, and that Daeron the Good was bedridden until further notice.

The Targaryen soldiers blamed Harrys to some extent, and the Potter soldiers would not tolerate any disrespect toward their Lord in his own home. Although no blood had been spilled yet, a couple of minor incidents had already occurred.

Throughout that time, Harrys had remained locked away in his study or the private library, practically isolating himself from both the royal family and Lady Lily and Gwyn.

Five days during which her man hadn't visited her at night, and for Gwyn, who had grown more than accustomed to the warmth of her fiancé beside her, to feeling the weight of Harry's body upon hers, to the delicious burning sensation she felt in her womanhood when her Lord's length first entered her femininity, making her feel conquered and completely owned…

Months of warming Lord Potter's bed every single night without exception had left her addicted, with a voracious craving for her future husband's skin, and these five days without Harrys between her sheets…were driving her mad and delirious with need.

Gwyn was on the verge of simply going to Harrys and mounting him in his office to remind him of his obligations. However, the young Ashford understood perfectly well that what had happened had affected her future husband.

The wand Harrys used, the one that had belonged to his late father, Lord James, was broken. And with relations with House Targaryen already extremely tense, everyone was waiting for Lord Potter's inevitable explosion of fury.

And that was precisely where the surprise lay. Harrys hadn't exploded, cursed, or demanded reparations from House Targaryen. Instead, he seemed distracted, distant…

Completely absentminded.

But Gwyn quickly shook her head and returned to reality. She was in her fiancé's study, simply keeping him company and attending to him as a good Lady would, giving him the time he needed to regain his focus.

But that didn't matter at the moment. Gwyn focused on Prince Baelor, who stood looking toward Lord Harrys with mixed feelings, while Harrys hadn't even bothered to stand.

Something that would be simply unthinkable for an ordinary person.

Harrys? He couldn't have cared less.

"I don't know what sacrifice you're talking about. I've simply come to talk," Prince Baelor said calmly, taking a seat in front of the desk and leaning back, curiously observing Gwyn's fiancé while the young Ashford prepared an extra cup of tea for the Prince, having a feeling they would be here for quite some time.

"As Prince of Dragonstone, or as my mother's fiancé?" Harrys asked dryly and somewhat sarcastically, still completely focused on his reading, turning a page just as Gwyn placed the cup of tea before the Prince.

"My Prince," the young woman said politely, making the Prince smile and nod courteously.

"Thank you, my Lady. I must admit that thanks to Lily, I've developed a taste for these infusions," Prince Baelor said with a smile, making Gwyn return the gesture before taking Harrys's cup and refilling it.

"There's no need for you to do that, darling. You know I can do it with a wave of my hand," Harrys said softly, raising his gaze toward Gwyn.

The young Ashford, without stopping what she was doing, replied.

"I know, but I want to. Attending to you is one of my duties as your Lady, my love," Gwyn said gently, focusing once again on preparing Harrys's tea while her fiancé and the Prince of Dragonstone spoke.

Not as prince and vassal, but as equals.

"My father is recovering slowly but steadily. He's still lethargic, but conscious. He has insisted that House Targaryen offer compensation for the destruction of your wand," the Prince said, making Harrys sigh and raise his gaze.

"I see," he said seriously, leaning forward and giving Prince Baelor his full attention. The Prince nodded gently and continued speaking.

"That said, I'm fully aware that I don't believe it's possible for you to put a price on a family heirloom as valuable as your own father's wand. So, although the offer remains on the table, I don't believe you'll accept it. Or am I mistaken?" the Prince asked before taking a sip of his tea, sighing with pleasure at the exquisite infusion.

Harrys didn't respond for a long time, his powerful eyes challenging the Prince with his gaze, which Baelor returned calmly and firmly.

"I see my mother has been talking too much again, something she's been doing regularly lately," Harrys said, slowly frowning, while the Prince sighed.

"I consulted Lily about the best way to compensate you for the loss of the wand, but she mentioned that it isn't something you can simply put a price on. That's something I understand and respect. I merely wanted to extend the courtesy, Harrys, nothing more. Lily is worried," he said softly.

"Worried? Or perhaps it's guilt and shame? Perhaps she's simply been avoiding me because she doesn't have the courage to tell me she's pregnant again," Harrys said with a frown, his voice controlled, although Gwyn could hear the edge of fury beneath her fiancé's impassiveness.

Gwyn's eyes widened considerably as she finished preparing Harrys's tea and waited for the Prince's response.

"So, you know. Lily has been avoiding the subject because of the matter with your wand," the Prince explained, making Harrys snort.

"Please. She hasn't faced me because she's a coward, simple as that. I've known about my mother's little mistake since the moment we returned to the castle. There is nothing, and let me be perfectly clear with you, nothing that happens in this castle that I don't know about. Absolutely nothing," Harrys said with a certain sharpness in his voice, making Prince Baelor frown and lean forward.

"You refer to your mother's pregnancy as a mistake? It's a blessing, one that will unite our families and mend the grievances of the past," the Prince said with some firmness, although maintaining his characteristic composure.

Gwyn grimaced at those words, knowing perfectly well that they had been a mistake. Because although it had been proven that King Daeron's mind had been influenced by…someone or something, that didn't really change the fact that Daemon Blackfyre and his family were dead.

"Will it? Will the birth of this little Targaryen princess you're expecting somehow work the miracle of bringing my master back to life? Aegon and Aemon? Will Alyssane magically walk through those doors again when this new princess of the realm is born, wearing her characteristic smile and ordering me to take her out for cinnamon rolls? You speak of peace and unity when the poison remains in the wound," Harrys said calmly.

"My Lord, your tea," Gwyn said, placing the infusion before Harrys and taking a seat beside him, where she had spent the last several hours keeping him company, as was proper.

"Thank you, Gwyn. You're an angel," Harrys said softly, giving her a fleeting smile before focusing once again on the Prince, who was looking at him with a questioning expression.

"I don't understand, Harrys. We all saw what you…pulled out of my father. That…shadow. That thing was responsible, wasn't it?" the Prince asked, genuinely confused, making Harrys lean forward and stare intently at the bewildered man.

"And what makes you think I'm talking about your father?" Harrys asked with a frown, instantly silencing the Prince, who blinked repeatedly, utterly confused.

However, before he could process Harrys's words, the young Lord simply leaned back and replied.

"And as for the mistake growing inside my mother, I hope you remember the terms of our agreement precisely, and that you keep firmly in mind that although she will be born of my mother, she will never be considered a Potter," Harrys replied with complete frankness, with a coldness that surprised both the Prince and Gwyn.

"You would disown your own sister?" Prince Baelor asked, genuinely surprised and angered by Harrys's position.

Her fiancé remained completely composed, although his eyes were icy and ruthless. His fingers tapped against the polished wood of his desk as he looked impassively at Prince Baelor.

"My only blood sister rests in the catacombs of this place. Whoever is growing inside my mother doesn't possess a single drop of Potter blood, and therefore has no rights whatsoever to the magical assets of House Potter. A family with a history like yours should understand that perfectly well. What were the words your father used so many years ago? Ah, yes, that we Potters didn't have the right blood. Ironic, don't you think? Considering the more than interesting current situation," Harrys said with a condescending laugh.

Without waiting for a response, Harrys stood and began walking toward the Potter Repository, his eyes fixed on the two pieces of his father's wand, broken and lifeless.

Gwyn could see it clearly, the pain of loss, something he could never recover. Her beloved concealed it well, but Gwyn had spent enough time with Harrys to read him accurately.

"There is no debt to settle. House Targaryen simply possesses nothing I consider valuable enough to compensate for the loss of my last connection to my father. Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Prince Baelor?" Harrys asked with a frown, his gaze fixed on the imposing magical cabinet, his back turned toward the Prince of Dragonstone.

Gwyn swallowed when she saw the Prince's displeasure, but King Daeron's eldest son merely stood and adjusted his robes with his characteristic elegance.

"I won't mention this conversation to your mother. It's evident that you're upset by what happened. We'll speak again when you're calmer. The entire family will dine together at eight, and obviously, you're more than invited. I feel it would do you good," the Prince said, making Harrys snort.

"Are you trying to tell me what time to eat in my own home?" Harrys asked absentmindedly, evidently attempting to provoke a confrontation, but the Prince merely finished his cup of tea.

"Thank you for the tea, my Lady," the Prince said with a courteous smile, making the young woman nod politely, only to watch as the Prince left the study, closing the door behind him and leaving Gwyn and Harrys alone.

For a long moment, silence reigned in the study. Harrys continued staring at his father's destroyed wand, so Gwyn simply walked gently toward her fiancé, embracing Harrys from behind with extreme tenderness.

Her beloved was…much larger and more imposing than she was, so Gwyn's face rested against his upper back, just below his shoulders. The young Ashford simply hugged him with all her strength, offering her support and love.

She knew this wasn't the moment to reprimand or reproach him for anything, even if she disagreed with the words Harrys had spoken about the future Targaryen princess.

"Are you upset?" Harrys asked softly, relaxing a little in Gwyn's arms, much to the young Ashford's not-so-secret pleasure.

"I disagree with your words, but it isn't something I want to discuss right now. What you need is someone to listen to you, not someone to judge or criticize you," Gwyn said, just as her fiancé sighed and turned around, wrapping Gwyn's small, delicate body in his strong arms.

The young Lady immediately nestled against her man's chest, sighing with pleasure as she inhaled that masculine scent, that hint of wood and breeze from his cologne that Gwyn had missed so much. His arms enveloped her like a cocoon, while Gwyn returned the embrace with her own, both losing themselves in the intimate moment.

"What's troubling you so much, my love? I'm going to be your wife. My duty is to share your burdens and provide you with comfort and relief. What's wrong?" Gwyn asked as her delicate hands lovingly caressed Harrys's face, silently pleading for an answer.

Harrys didn't respond immediately. He simply lowered his head and kissed Gwyn's lips with extreme tenderness, not a gesture of lust or carnal desire, but one of profound connection between them, a gesture Gwyn returned wholeheartedly and without hesitation.

"It isn't really…the loss of the wand that worries me, my love. In fact, it's normal for the new Lord of the family to burn the previous Lord's wand when he prepares to forge his own," Harrys said softly, making Gwyn look at him with surprise, which quickly transformed into a radiant smile.

"Then you know how to do it, my love? You can make another wand?" she asked, excited by the good news, making Harrys sigh and nod gently.

"Aye. It's something expected of me. It's a Peverell tradition that was eventually passed down to the Potters. Burning the wand closes the previous Lord's chapter, and forging a new wand represents a new beginning, a blank canvas upon which the family legacy can continue," her fiancé said softly, his hands resting on Gwyn's hips, drawing her closer to his body in a possessive and emotional manner, as though he feared Gwyn would disappear if he released her.

"I used the wand because it made me feel close to my father. It reminded me, in a way, that I'm a Potter. It was…an anchor, something to keep me from fully embracing the Peverell legacy," her fiancé said with a heavy sigh. Gwyn simply continued caressing his face, allowing Harrys to say everything he needed to say.

"What do you mean, my love?" Gwyn asked softly, making Harrys remain silent for several seconds while Gwyn placed gentle kisses and little nibbles along his neck and chin, causing him to begin releasing muffled growls of desire.

"What else, my love? I know you have more to say," Gwyn said, making a titanic effort to suppress her carnal desire, at least for a few minutes.

Harrys didn't respond, but his hands began gently caressing Gwyn's backside, almost as though it were a reflex, before he answered.

"My mother has always spoken of Britannia, of that magical and mysterious land where wizards and witches live in great numbers, where children attend a wonderful academy of magic, and where the extraordinary seems to be part of everyday life," Harrys began, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance while his arms remained delicately wrapped around his fiancée, although his mischievous hands were beginning to have other intentions.

Gwyn simply continued kissing his neck, giving him all the time he needed.

His voice was calm, almost melancholic, as though he were remembering the countless stories he had heard throughout his childhood. Gwyn remained comfortably nestled against his chest, listening patiently while one of her hands rested upon the arm holding her close, listening attentively to Harrys's voice as well as the beating of his heart.

The moment was extremely intimate, laden with emotions so powerful that they frightened the young Ashford in a way that was almost impossible to believe.

Gwyn was certain she would kill for this man, without hesitation, without a second thought. If anything or anyone threatened Harrys, she could place a dagger against their throat without blinking.

And that level of devotion both frightened and excited her.

"She speaks of mythical beasts and fantastical creatures I'll probably never meet. Unicorns, phoenixes, and all manner of wonders that, according to her, make Britannia an incomparable place," the young Lord continued, releasing a barely perceptible sigh. "But to me, all of that is irrelevant."

Harrys pulled Gwyn a little tighter against his body, unconsciously seeking comfort in her closeness. His fiancée naturally returned the gesture, gently caressing him as she stopped kissing him for a few moments to look at him, giving him her full attention. There wasn't the slightest trace of judgment in her eyes, only affection and a sincere willingness to listen.

"I feel absolutely nothing for that place, Gwyn. I can't consider myself loyal to a land I've never known, no matter how fondly my mother remembers it. My earliest memories are of Westeros. Its castles, its forests, its mountains, and its people… Everything I know, everything I consider my home, is here."

The young man paused briefly, lowering his gaze toward his fiancée before continuing. Harrys's hand left Gwyn's backside and began caressing the young woman's face. She closed her eyes and leaned into her fiancé's palm, lost in the sensation.

"I'm Westerosi," he finally declared, with a conviction that contrasted with the melancholy of his words. "This land raised me, shaped my thoughts, and made me the man I am. Not Britannia, nor any other land. I'm Westerosi, no matter how much I've refused to accept it, how much I've resisted change."

However, that certainty didn't seem to provide him with much comfort. Harrys frowned slightly as his fingers absentmindedly caressed Gwyn's face. There was something else he wanted to confess to her, something he had kept to himself for far too long and that, for some reason, was much more difficult for him to express.

"And I feel guilty about it," he admitted quietly. "Because with every passing year, I feel my connection to my father weakening a little more. His stories, the memories my mother shared with me when I was little, even the things I once considered important now seem…distant."

Gwyn remained silent, although her fingers gently intertwined with her fiancé's. Harrys acknowledged that small gesture with a sad smile before lowering his head slightly and taking a deep breath.

"The Peverell legacy calls to me strongly, you know?" he finally confessed, his expression considerably more serious. "Too strongly, actually. There are moments when I can almost feel it as a second nature, something that has always existed inside me and becomes increasingly difficult to ignore as the years pass."

His eyes acquired a particular intensity as he contemplated the horizon.

"That craving to dominate, to conquer, to possess…" he murmured slowly, as though choosing each word with extreme care. "That desire to make the entire world know that I'm superior to all of them, that I can take whatever I desire, and that there is absolutely nothing they can do to stop me."

Harrys remained silent for several seconds, surprised by how easily those words had finally escaped his lips. His arms remained wrapped around Gwyn, although his expression had grown considerably darker.

"It's terrifying, in a way, but extremely exhilarating," he admitted softly.

There was no pride in that final confession, but neither could she deny that part of her found that ambition profoundly seductive.

Gwyn continued embracing him silently, allowing him to organize his thoughts without interrupting. Harrys finally lowered his gaze toward her, finding in her eyes the same tenderness and absence of judgment with which she had listened to his entire confession, accompanied by an immense and sincere love.

"I love you, Gwyn," Harrys whispered softly, making the young Ashford smile radiantly before replying.

"Not as much as I love you, Harrys. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I'm yours, your woman, your future wife, and the future mother of your children. I never want you to doubt that. Whether as Gwyn Potter or Gwyn Peverell, I'll be here by your side, without hesitation, without doubt. I'm yours, my love, yours alone," the young Ashford said with conviction before throwing herself against Harrys's lips with fervor and desire, wanting to erase the doubts from his mind.

"What is it you want, Harrys? What do you truly want?" Gwyn asked, trapping one of Harrys's legs between her own as she began rubbing herself sensually against his length.

Harrys raised his gaze, his eyes filled with ambition, with determination.

"I want everything," Harrys said hesitantly, making Gwyn frown before replying.

"Again. What do you truly want? Answer as the Lord you are," Gwyn asked again, more firmly than before.

"I want Everything," Harrys replied, now with greater firmness, focusing his eyes on Gwyn. Those emerald orbs the young Ashford adored…looked at her with desire, with lust, and with a hunger for power that made the young Ashford's insides tremble with longing.

"Then go and take it. Burn your father's wand and forge your own. Let Harry Potter die, and let Harrys Peverell be born," Gwyn declared firmly before continuing.

"Will you be with me, my love?" Harrys asked, and Gwyn answered without hesitation.

"Until the End," the young Lady said.

And without replying, Harrys pulled Gwyn tightly against his body, before a terrifying sensation invaded the young woman's body. She felt herself being…squeezed from every direction, disorienting her for an instant before darkness engulfed Gwyn.

A moment later, the young Ashford found herself outside Potter Manor. A powerful thunderstorm raged across the skies, something quite common ever since Fulgarion had claimed her rightful place as Queen of the Skies of Westeros.

"Where are we, my love?" Gwyn asked, watching as her beloved walked toward an enormous willow tree on a nearby hill, not caring that the rain was soaking them both.

It wasn't as though Gwyn lacked dresses, and as soon as they returned to the castle, both Harrys and she would be undressed within seconds.

"This willow…means a great deal to me. This is where my mother arrived in Westeros with me in her arms. This is where I performed my first accidental magic. I made the branches dance, you know? And it was here that Ser Daemon Blackfyre knighted me," Harrys said, a smile on his face and pain in his eyes.

Gwyn didn't respond for a long time. She simply took her beloved's hand, noticing an axe leaning against the enormous tree.

"This tree…represents so many of the things I love, things important to my life. My mother, Ser Daemon, everything…"

And Gwyn instantly understood her beloved's dilemma.

"You have to sacrifice it, don't you?" she asked softly, making Harrys look at her in surprise before nodding gently.

"Peverell magic insists on using wood that holds meaning for its wielder. My father had to personally cut down an old oak he had planted alongside my grandmother, who had already passed away by the time he became Lord Potter. Meanwhile, my grandfather had to cut down an old willow he had planted with his sister in his youth. The wood will be as powerful as the sacrifice is meaningful, and even so…"

Gwyn intervened, instantly understanding what had happened.

"I'm here, Harrys. With you, forever. Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere," the soaked Lady said. Thunder echoed throughout the area, but she didn't care.

Only Harrys mattered.

Her beloved smiled gently and took the axe in both hands, looking at the tree with eyes filled with memories and pain. It was evident that this wasn't something easy for her beloved.

But Gwyn would remain steadfast. Her place was at his side, and if Harrys needed them both to stare at an old elder tree all night, Gwyn would do so without hesitation.

She knew perfectly well that this moment…was momentous. Her fiancé's hands were trembling, but she remained silent. This moment belonged to him alone.

Harrys inhaled deeply and, with a sharp cry, delivered the first blow, causing the axe's blade to strike the old tree's trunk, just as three powerful bolts of lightning struck its crown, setting the high branches ablaze with flames so voracious and powerful that not even the heavy rain could extinguish them.

An oppressive sensation overwhelmed Gwyn, while Harrys seemed to have entered some kind of frenzy, striking the thick trunk again and again, while Fulgarion watched Gwyn's fiancé from the heavens, completely motionless, as though she had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. And something told Gwyn that they would be here for quite some time.

The ritual to forge a new wand had begun.